


Fade Out

by samsnow



Category: Bad Idea - Moon Bin & Sanha (Music Video)
Genre: Dark background but mostly light tone, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Pre-Slash, Rich Heir Cha Eunwoo, Spy Moonbin, Spy Sanha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsnow/pseuds/samsnow
Relationships: Moon Bin/Yoon Sanha
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Fade Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariesspicy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariesspicy/gifts).



Sanha didn’t even want to know. He didn’t care anymore. He was so, so tired – all he wanted was for it to be over with as fast as possible. He would just show up, do his part somehow, and then retreat under his covers with a glass of rosé (to at least add some decorum to the despair), and thoroughly reflect on his life choices.

Not that he had ever harbored illusions about his company being a half-decent one, given how cartoonishly shady his boss had been acting from day one. But this was, on paper, a respectable corporate job, one that satisfied his parents. He couldn’t afford to lose it now, anymore than he could afford to turn it down then, especially since he wasn’t ever going to be a model son in other areas of his life. His boss somehow already knew about his “different lifestyle” and seemed relatively okay with it, which was rare enough in itself and meant Sanha didn’t have to live in fear of being found out and fired at any time.

So, his company being extremely corrupt – that, he already knew and had made peace with it a long time ago. He just never thought he’d one day be asked to do corporate spying _himself_. He was just about the least qualified person for this mission. He’d tried bringing this up to his boss, but –

“The only way to get close enough to this guy is to seduce him. It’s a well-known secret that Cha is gay. And you’re the only gay employee here.”

Sanha hadn’t even tried pointing out the seven million ways in which this sentiment was problematic. There was just no point. So now, as he was packing for his hotel stay, and once more acutely aware of how helpless he was in the face of his company’s decisions, the _why_ of the whole thing – who Cha Eunwoo was, why they needed to steal that particular picture from him, what kind of profit this could bring them – he just didn’t want to know.

The crinkly-eyed smile Cha Eunwoo gave Moonbin as Moonbin handed him a shot of Jack Daniels was nothing short of blinding. The guy was even more ridiculously handsome in real life than in pictures. He was also, sadly, one hundred percent not to be fucked with.

Turned out Cha’s family was linked to the mafia, and he was a way, way bigger fish than the ones they could afford to fry. Their client would be pissed they hadn’t retrieved the data, but she’d have to conceive that you just don’t mess with the mafia. Moonbin had orders to abort the mission and evacuate the scene as soon as possible. He should hand out his two-days resignation notice by the end of the night.

Shame, he thought. There was a mirthful cheekiness about Cha that would have made flirting with him a boatload of fun, he just knew it. This mission would have been a breeze – seduce the guy while working as the hotel’s bartender, get him to Moonbin’s room, slip him a small dose so that he fell into a deep sleep, get his fingerprints and access the data on his phone while he was out, and voilà.

Instead, he was currently serving drinks of the normal variety to his target, and watching him engage in flirty chatter with a cute, shy-looking newcomer, whose bold choice of a blond fringe amidst the rest of his black hair had Moonbin temporarily distracted. The guy stuck out like a sore thumb amidst this crowd, severely lacking the kind of dignified indifference everyone else was busy trying to project. He looked adorably nervous, and genuinely interested in Cha, who seemed very interested back.

Moonbin tried to focus on other clients during the night, but his gaze got inexorably drawn back to Cha and Blondie, who had ended up settling at a table. He couldn’t help a sigh as he thought about the lovely sleeping draught he had so carefully prepared and even tested out on himself yesterday (strictly out of respect for protocol; he was more than secure in his dosage skills by this point). This was all going to waste now.

As he wistfully watched Cha get up from his table and head out to the bathroom, something about Blondie’s behavior caught his attention. The guy’s body language, instead of relaxing now that he was not under his date’s gaze anymore, was telegraphing even more tension. He was rubbing his knees and casting nervous glances around the room. Moonbin almost dropped the tumbler he was swiping as he saw him reach out under the table to get at the small leather bag hanging off of Cha’s chair, and start rummaging inside it.

Moonbin had to refrain from scoffing out loud. Was this guy for real? He had now moved Cha’s wallet to his lap and was casting intermittent glances at it as he waded through it. Was this an attempt at being discreet? Moonbin was extremely confused. His confusion only grew when Blondie frowned like he hadn’t found what he was looking for, and hurriedly restored bag and wallet back to their original place.

Moonbin had to focus on serving a couple of clients who’d shown up to the counter, but he was more than a little intrigued. What did this guy want with Cha? He was clearly not a professional spy, what with the complete lack of discretion and all. Was he trying to get blackmail material out of Cha, either for profit or revenge? Probably the second option. The guy didn’t look like some kind of cut-throat business man; he looked more like the type to apologize to items of furniture when he ran into them. Cha’s family had probably severely wronged him in some way.

He was going to get himself killed in record time, Moonbin realized, and immediately shook off the thought. He was out of here in two days. This was not his problem.

Sanha’s second day at the hotel was markedly worse than the first, which was more or less how he expected his week to go. He had woken up extremely late on account of tossing and turning the night away worrying about last evening’s failure, and had spent the afternoon bracing himself to give the bag-searching a second try that evening (the aforementioned bracing mainly took the form of him walking around the hotel grounds while hiding away from Cha, and dejectedly eating chips by the outside pond).

Thankfully, Cha-please-call-me-Eunwoo was up for another date. He had even had a letter delivered to Sanha’s room inviting him for dinner, which Sanha annoyedly answered with a (very polite, very nice) text, because why did rich people have to be dramatic about everything.

Sanha was a nervous wreck by the time he showed up to the bar-restaurant; all the more so that he realized he had forgotten his wallet there the previous night and had to go through the embarrassment of retrieving it from the bartender, who gave it back to him with a very toothy, very amused-looking, very disrespectful smirk. Sanha would have loved to know exactly what kind of hotel allowed their staff to show up shirtless underneath their jacket, but he was cut off from his reflections by Cha’s arrival.

He couldn’t believe his seduction skills were working on this guy, who for some reason greeted him with the biggest, most blinding smile Sanha had ever seen in his entire life. They settled at the same table as the previous day, and Sanha barely registered the taste of the food he was eating. He kept thinking of charming things to say in his head, and failing to deliver them properly or at all, but Cha continually sent him warm grins and fond looks through all his bumbling, and provided most of the conversation. Truth be told, Cha would no doubt be much better-suited than him at his own mission.

To top it all off, the bartender kept ogling him in a frankly extremely unprofessional manner. Sanha was starting to feel like the heroine of a romance novel, which, come to think of it, would have been much better than the role he had been given right now. He didn’t even get a chance to play it, however, as Cha didn’t leave once for the bathroom, and Sanha came back to his room this night with a slightly tipsy gait and an impending sense of doom.

His mission might be over now, but Moonbin kept researching Cha’s family in between shifts. He had to occupy himself somehow. Although it was unclear whether Cha himself was involved in anything fishy, Moonbin was morbidly fascinated by the consistency with which anyone who’d gone against the Cha parents and grandparents had ended up dying in a car accident. His first instinct was to wonder why the family wouldn’t vary the methods of killing to better keep away from suspicion, but then it dawned on him that they wanted people to figure it out – it was in itself a warning sign not to mess with them.

This was probably what they’d do to Blondie, then.

Moonbin tried to move on from the thought, but found he couldn’t. He had enquired about Blondie (his name was Yoon Sanha) last night after finding his wallet at his table, and learned he had booked a room for the entire week. Ample time to get himself into major trouble. If Moonbin was honest with himself, he felt terrible for the guy. Sure, Blondie could turn out to be a shady character too, but Moonbin’s instincts and body language reading skills had never failed him once. From where he was standing, Yoon looked like an innocent and particularly unsubtle bystander caught in the crossfire.

Moonbin could probably… No, this was a terrible idea. He reminded himself _this was not his problem_. He should really file his departure notice.

Sanha woke up groggy and bone-deep exhausted in the middle of the afternoon on day 3, due to a second night of nightmares and fitful sleep. He was halfway through munching on the questionable-tasting snacks he found in his drawers and vaguely putting on an outfit together when someone started lightly but very insistently knocking on his door. He was pretty sure it couldn’t be Cha nor the hotel staff – it was way too uncouth behavior – and he knew no one else here, so he yelled:

“You have the wrong room number!”

There was silence, and then:

“… I’m pretty sure I don’t?”

“Yes you do, please go away. Have a great day!”

“I need to speak to Yoon Sanha. Please. It’s extremely important.”

This was getting real creepy real fast, and Sanha had no time for this shit. He briskly pulled the door open, and came face to face with a semi-naked torso. Great. The rude bartender it was, then.

“Can I talk to you?” the guy said, and strolled past him to plant himself in the middle of the room.

Sanha was about to go on a tirade about his absolute lack of manners, but got distracted by the deeply worried look on his face.

“I’m listening,” Sanha said after a beat, closing the door and then crossing his arms for good measure (he realized too late he was still holding the snacks, which probably got in the way of his attempt at looking intimidating).

“Look, this is urgent matter, so I’ll get straight to the point. I know you’re here on a mission to retrieve something from Cha Eunwoo. It’s okay!,” the guy exclaimed before Sanha could even start denying it, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I’m here on a similar mission too.”

Sanha just stared at him. He didn’t even have the energy to expand to feel shocked anymore. Of course there would be a competing corporate spy during his mission, because that was exactly how his life was meant to go.

“Let’s say I believe you,” he told the guy, neither confirming nor denying the claims about his own mission. “Why would you tell me this?”

“Because I have gathered intel that this guy’s family is extremely dangerous,” the guy said, looking at him intently. “As in ‘You’ll get killed by the mafia if you steal anything of value from him’ kind of dangerous. You’re risking your life, and so am I. You need to stop whatever you’re trying to do, and get away from this place asap.”

Sanha could not believe his ears. The absolute gall of this guy, seriously.

“You think you’re being subtle?” he said, suddenly more angry than anything else.

“What?” the guy asked, looking stricken.

“You think you can use such an obvious trick on me? You just want me away from your target. Well, tough luck, buddy. I’m not going anywhere.”

The guy gave him a giant-eyed, open-mouthed stare. He looked like he was about to cry. And then he took a step forward.

“No, no, I have the evidence here, look!” he said, pulling out his phone, but Sanha firmly redirected him outside of his room and shut the door in his face, all the while ignoring the guy’s frantic ramblings about car accidents and the mafia.

Yeah, right. He might have been a rookie at his job, but he was not this gullible, thank you very much. He vowed to himself not to touch any drinks this ‘bartender’ gave him from now on.

Moonbin was bad at handling panic. Which was usually not a problem, because he never panicked during missions. Tonight was markedly different, though. He _needed_ to get Yoon out of here, and he had to act very fast. He also had no time to think about why he was putting himself at risk for this guy. He'd deal with the consequences later. Yoon and Cha were currently on their third dinner date, and Yoon had not touched a single one of the sleeping draught-infused drinks Moonbin had brought him so far. Things would go south very quickly if Moonbin didn’t intervene, and no other, better solution came to mind at the moment. He had no choice.

All the guests had gathered for dinner at the same hour tonight, to enjoy the live jazz show that was about to start in a few minutes while they savored their food. Moonbin counted everyone once more – all 24 of them were currently seated at their respective tables. It was now or never. He quickly hopped onto the stage.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Just a quick announcement before the show: I am delighted to tell you there is free cocktail for everyone tonight. Please come help yourselves at the bar.”

He was greeted with instant success, as people starting getting up from their seats and lining up. He retreated behind the counter to start serving them, and heaved a sigh of relief as he noticed Yoon was joining the line.

Tonight was the night, Sanha thought to himself. Tonight _had_ to be the night. There would be no better opportunity, as Cha was distracted by the show, to discreetly retrieve his bag and bring it with him to the bathroom, where he’d be able to thoroughly search through it.

Cha had noticed Sanha wasn’t drinking anything, though, and seemed concerned and perplexed by it. Which is why Sanha thanked the heavens for that cocktail announcement. Surely, bartender-spy would not poison an entire room of people, so Sanha could be sure this drink was safe.

Funny, though, he thought, as he and Cha got back to their table and went on with their drinks and appetizers. He was feeling very dizzy, all of a sudden.

Moonbin only realized the enormity of his mistake once he gave a needle shot of the antidote to Yoon. 25 – there were 25 guests in this hotel, not 24. He forgot the one that had just arrived this afternoon. This meant the 25th guest would no doubt panic upon seeing everyone passed out on their tables, and would immediately call the cops. She probably already had.

Yoon did not give him a chance to explain any of this upon waking up, though, and immediately started punching him in the face. Damn, the guy hit unexpectedly hard. Moonbin barely defended himself. He started laughing out of despair – they were so screwed.

But then, police sirens were heard in the distance, and Yoon let him go.

“Run!” the guy said, and Sanha frankly had no better plan, so he grabbed the hand the guy had reached out to him and ran with him to the parking lot, where they jumped in a sleek black car.

As the guy (“My name is Moonbin”) was driving them away at full speed, telling Sanha his boss knew how to handle the police, no big deal, and adding with a grin that maybe Sanha could join Moonbin’s team, Sanha started half-crying half-laughing uncontrollably. His body hurt all over, his head hurt even worse, and he was pretty sure he’d sprained his wrist. His entire life had gone to shreds in the space of an evening; and meanwhile this guy was excitedly rambling about how much he loved his job and his team, like being in the middle of a car chase with the cops was the most mundane thing to him.

Moonbin laughed with him, sounding just as half-delirious as Sanha was and, after a pointed glance at the rearview mirror, ascertained that they had effectively lost the cops and were temporarily out of trouble. He stopped the car and turned to Sanha, who was breathing deep trying to calm himself down. 

“Are you okay?” Moonbin asked, wearing a concerned frown on his bloodied face. 

“Why are you acting so relaxed about all this?” Sanha asked back, trying not to sound as lost and desperate as he was. 

“I’m just happy we both got out alive,” Moonbin said with a small smile, looking sincerely relieved. “Shall I take you to my headquarters?” he asked after a while, playful but not quite meeting Sanha’s gaze, as though he was worried Sanha would turn him down or start hitting him again.

Sanha probably should do either. Or both. He winced. Damn, his wrist hurt. He knew how to defend himself – had to, in the past. Had to, tonight again. Except he was less and less certain Moonbin had been the right person to attack. He looked at him - his stupid shoulders in his stupid jacket, his bloodied grin, his warm, searching gaze. This seemed like such a bad idea. The worst ever, actually. But there was a glimmer in Moonbin’s eyes that he didn’t know how to define; something that, suddenly, Sanha wanted to hold onto and follow till the ends of the earth. For the first time in his life, he realized, he did see an out.


End file.
